Got Your Back
by EJGryphon
Summary: This is a six-chapter story that tries to imagine a small portion of life between the Crimebusters fiasco and the start of the GN - oh, and an epilogue. Dan's POV. COMPLETE - Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Dan looked around the room full of grown-ups in their underpants. A big part of him couldn't believe he was actually here, actually doing this. It seemed so much more ridiculous to be dressed up like an owl in an ordinary living room, with regular lighting, than in a dark alleyway. He sighed and tried to return his thoughts to the conversation he was supposed to be having with someone who called himself Ozymandias.

The door opened from the hall and a very young girl entered. Dan could see her over Ozymandias' glittering shoulder: pretty, her brown hair swept off her face, with jewel-green eyes, dressed like a showgirl. This must be Sally Jupiter's little girl: the new Silk Spectre. Dan did the math quickly in his head. She couldn't be much more than fifteen years old, and here she was with stage-worthy makeup, her long legs exposed to the hip. She looked like one of the child prostitutes he and Rorschach had been cleaning off the streets of late.

Rorschach. He could only imagine what _he_ must be thinking about this spectacle. With one hand Rorschach cursed the teenaged girls who hooked on street corners in the seedier parts of town as being nothing more than scum, the filth of the city, amoral creatures corrupting other children and enabling the disgusting habits of disgusting men; with the other he cradled them, delivering them to St Mary Magdalene Convent for the nuns to look after, time and time again when too many of the girls returned to the streets because they had nowhere else to go, and no one else to turn to but their pimps.

Her eyes met his for a moment as she nervously scanned the room, and he visibly jumped at the electricity she seemed to put out. The girls on the streets were old for their years, and she was too, but they had been beaten and abused, seen so much they never should have, that they no longer betrayed their sense of lostness in public. This girl, the Silk Spectre, looked distinctly alone.

And to think, her own mother had put her up to it.

She silently leaned against some piece of enormous machinery, staring down at her feet, and Dan pulled his eyes away from her as Captain Metropolis began to speak. "Call me Nelson," he stated, absurdly, as if this were any old cocktail party. Beside Dan, Rorschach made a grumbling noise that almost produced an audible chuckle in Dan. The slender, yet powerfully built Ozymandias had taken a seat, like a prince in his throne despite the fact that this was "Nelson's" house and the fact that an actual superhero was glowing blue in the opposite corner of the room. Dan crossed his arms over his chest; this whole event was becoming more and more painful with every moment.

It seemed that he wasn't the only one who felt it. A large man, who needed no actual introduction, let out a resounding belch and then interrupted Captain Metropolis with an obscenity. Dan didn't know the Comedian well, but he already didn't like him. He was the last of the Minutemen, and it seemed that he had survived the years by sheer power of will. His broad shoulders took up too much space, his cigar smoke stank, and he had yet to look up from his newspaper to speak to anyone in the room.

"This whole crimebuster schtick, it stinks," he declared, as if there was nothing more to discuss. A bully if ever Dan had seen one. Didn't the Comedian know, from his own experience, that a group standing up for what was right was more powerful than a lone gunman? Didn't he and Rorschach do more for the city as a partnership than when he had been at it alone? Wasn't it worth something to know that someone else had your back? Nelson might be a bit of an idealist, true, but he had organized this gathering with good intent. Then the Comedian laid into him, his cigar clamped between his teeth. The Comedian was really little more than a monster with the American flag on his shoulders. Dan had to speak up.

"Uh," Dan began. Oh how he hated speaking in public. "Listen, let's not throw the idea out right away. Me and Rorschach" (Had he really just blundered his grammar like that?) "have been making headway into the gang problem by pooling our efforts ..."

At the mention of his name, Rorschach stiffened. Though slightly built, especially in the company of men like the Comedian, he was not a man to meddle with. Dan knew what Rorschach was capable of, and it scared him. Instantly, he wished he hadn't brought Rorschach into the conversation.

But Rorschach stepped forward slightly, his gravely voice gaining the attention of almost everyone there. "Obviously, I agree - but a group _this_ size seems more like a publicity exercise somehow." Dan thought for a moment about the press photos of the Minutemen. Ever-suspicious Rorschach continued, his words ringing true. "It's too big and unwieldy ..." Years later, Dan would think back on that moment with pride, and wonder what happened to his friend.

Then there was nothing but yelling and name-calling. The room seemed to erupt, and Dan lost track for an instant of who was saying what. Rorschach continued to object, and Captain Metropolis continued to sputter, and then, incredibly, the display of the US map in the middle of the room was on fire and the Comedian was strolling out the door like nothing had happened. Dan started to say something, even called the host by his name, but his words were drowned out by the confusion as everyone started to leave. Rorschach was silent again, having spoken more words in that conversation than in the average week, and Dan could only hang his head.

Wasn't it worth_ something _to know that someone has your back?


	2. Chapter 2

Two black kings, one red queen. Dan looked down at the cards in front of him. Solitaire was supposed to be a relaxing activity, yet every time he started a game, he found the decisions a little bit uncomfortable. One of those black faces was going to be alone. What if he chose wrong?

"Left one," Rorschach said, over his shoulder. Rorschach was on the couch, using a spoon to eat a bowl of cereal with no milk. He hadn't even looked over to see that Dan, at the table, was debating his next move. The first few times they had worked together, Dan had found Rorschach's prescience to be, well, creepy, but now it seemed natural, even if Dan still couldn't bring himself to trust a knowing that he couldn't make sense of empirically. Rorschach always went left to right, always focused, always methodical. He did what needed to be done, and he didn't ponder the moral weight of things. He just _knew_.

Dan put the red queen on the black king.

"Are you coming tonight?" Dan asked, knowing the answer.

"Work to do," came the predictable response. Dan had no idea what Rorschach did when the two of them weren't together, save from the tv reports attributing criminal deaths to him. Did he have a home, a family, a name? If he did, he never mentioned it to Dan, and Dan knew better than to pry. There was, really, no actual value in it. After all, he too put on a mask to do his work, he too hid his true identity from the world. Only three people in all the world knew that he, Daniel Dreiburg, was the Nite Owl, and none of them were any position to talk - or to judge.

Still, he worried about Rorschach. It was true that he could look after himself - it was everyone else who needed to worry about physical safety - but Rorschach was so basically alone.

"You know, you're welcome to stay here while I'm out," he said, for perhaps the thousandth time.

"Work," Rorschach replied, covering his mouth again with his mask and setting the empty bowl on the coffee table. Dan instinctively got up and slipped a coaster under it. Then he stood in front of Rorschach, looking down at the smaller man on the couch. He took off his glasses and began to wipe the lenses with his handkerchief, thinking about what to say. Dan wouldn't have minded it a bit if Rorschach just took over the guest room in Dan's house. At the very least it would relieve him of the unfounded worry he felt whenever Rorschach left the Owl Nest by himself.

"Yes, Daniel?" Rorschach intoned, gruffly, breaking Dan's reverie. Dan sighed. Oh, he could say aloud what was going through his mind, try to insist that Rorschach just return to the Nest when he was done fighting crime for the night, listen to Rorschach refuse, again, and then watch him leave even more brusquely than usual, but Dan had played out that scene so many times that he no longer had any need to experience it in person. It happened in its entirety in his mind, all in a moment. He sighed again and started walking toward the kitchen.

"Just let yourself out. There's an escape hatch two blocks -"

"Know how to get out, Daniel," Rorschach replied. There was no need for a 'goodnight'. Perhaps it wasn't really so much prescience, Dan mused, climbing the stairs to his bedroom to get changed, as it was familiarity.


	3. Chapter 3

He pulled the collar of his coat a little higher around his neck. November in New York wasn't really cold enough to have reason to complain, but Dan felt more and more exposed in his regular clothes as the years went on. He couldn't really figure out why he felt so compelled to come whenever Laurie called, why he was willing to set aside his costume and gadgets and partner and meet her at whatever restaurant she named. Tonight it was some place called Rafael's.

The first time she had rung his home number, he had gone assuming that she would have Dr Manhattan there with her and he'd be able to talk biology with a fellow scientist. He hadn't even thought about what he might say to the still-teenaged Laurie at the table. When he'd arrived and it was just her, he'd been nervous that he seemed to be sneaking around behind the back of such a powerful man. He'd never been good with women, and it occurred to him that she might be using him to make Dr Manhattan jealous. God knew women had used him like that before - and for other reasons. Dan took greater care now to conceal his wealth from others, since it seemed to make more trouble for him than it solved, but ever since he'd been a kid girls had talked to him, even slept with him, just to make a point, or to get something they wanted - and what they wanted was never _Dan_. That first night, Dan made up an excuse and blamed it on Rorschach, and left before dessert.

But Laurie had called again the next day and assured him that her boyfriend knew she was going out without him. His work was getting going, she said; he was out of the country with the government, and she was just looking for someone to talk to. After that, the two of them got together every couple of months, like normal people. The last few years, that pace had slowed to a few times a year, but Dan still could tell when the phone call was from Laurie. He could tell, as soon as it rang, that he'd be meeting her for dinner in the next few days.

As he walked down the New York streets, ignoring offenses he would ordinarily have put an immediate stop to if he had been dressed like himself, Dan recalled the very first time they had ever spoken. He'd been crouched on a rooftop, watching a drug exchange on a street corner, planning the right moment to sweep down upon the dealer. Goodness knew where Rorschach had been that night, and when Dan heard footsteps behind him, he knew there was going to be trouble. Without turning, he tightened his hand on the taser at his hip; when he faced the assailant, his cape had swirled around him with a satisfyingly dramatic flutter.

"Whoa there, it's me, it's me," said a feminine voice. Dan had blinked at her through his goggles, stupidly.

"Spectre?" he asked, even more stupidly. Of course it was her. Though it had been almost two years since they had been at Captain Metropolis' party together, and though she had filled out - considerably - since then, she was still wearing that racy costume, now stretched more tightly over her chest and bottom. Her green eyes glinted at him as she smiled.

"And you're the Nite Owl," she said, grinning. "But I'd really prefer if you called me Laurie." She stuck out her hand and waited for him to take it. After an instant, he took and shook it.

"Uh," he said, his eyes darting away from her exposed cleavage and landing on her bare thighs. He squeezed them shut. "Where's your partner?" he asked, a little desperately.

"Vietnam," she replied, as if it were Queens. "Yours?"

Dan shrugged. "I guess we're looking for the same guys here?"

"Guess so." Laurie's smile didn't waver, even as she leaned precariously over the building's edge to watch the milling gangsters below. She must have been about nineteen then, to Dan's twenty-six, but she still seemed so much like a child, with so little fear about falling. "I suppose one of us ought to go down to that end, and the other stay here, so they can't esc ape."

"I'll take the street side," Dan said. "You don't know who might be out there as backup."

She turned to look at him defiantly. "I can take care of myself, you know," she said.

Looking at her, Dan was sure she could. But any slight error on her part, and he would have to bear the guilt for her getting hurt. He never, ever had that twinge of conscience when he was out with Rorschach. "Seriously," she insisted. "You've got my back and I've got yours." So Laurie took the street end, and Dan went into the darkness of the alley, and when the dealers turned to enter it, the two of them dropped from the sky at the same moment. Trapped.

The gangsters looked surprised and nervous as they were cornered by not one but two masked crusaders. Dan always liked to see that look on their faces when he and Rorschach came in for the kill. Laurie and Dan closed in, tightening the trio in together. It was Laurie who made the first move, knocking a draw pistol out of one of their hands with a high kick. And then there was a shuffle of arms and legs, and Dan lost track of who threw which punch.

He only saw more dark figures entering their alley, drawn, no doubt, by the sound of fighting, come to help their fellow gang members. Dan watched as Laurie ducked beneath the grasp of one of them and rose to kick him firmly in the groin. Dan could almost hear the crunching of soft parts as that one fell. She could indeed take care of herself, but as Dan finished off one after another, more and more of them arrived. Laurie was getting overwhelmed.

"Spectre, down!" he called, and drew out his acetylene torch. He _hated_ to cause lasting damage when it could be prevented; for this, Rorschach called him "soft". But here it seemed warranted. A single zap to the perp's chest and he fell to the pavement. Dan winced; that one would never rise again.

"Thanks, Nite Owl," she replied. "Look out!" But it was a little bit too late: Dan had taken too long to reholster the torch and someone had gotten behind him. Dan jerked forward as the knife blade pierced his shoulder from behind. Time seemed to stand still as he felt it part slip through the fabric of his suit, part his skin, and enter the muscle there.

Now it seemed it was Laurie's turn to save him. One incredible kick to the face and the thug was knocked over. She finished him with a blow to the chest and threw him against a dumpster, and he fell, pieces of trash knocked loose falling on top of him.

His left arm was worse for wear but he was grateful that Laurie had thought so quickly. She flashed a smile at him and perused someone a little deeper into the alley, and Dan was glad that he had the chance to take over the entry to the alley instead.

"Behind you, Daniel." Dan ducked down to the cement and knocked the knees out of the thug behind him with one _moulinaise_ kick. He fell and cracked his head on the pavement. He did not rise. Dan stood again, noting that the gangster was out cold, before looking around for Rorschach. He was already on the opposite end of the alley, back to back with Laurie. Remarkably, she was not only holding her own against the drug dealers that came at them, but was working effectively and well with Rorschach. Dan couldn't help but be impressed.

When it was all over, only a few of the men were dead. Mostly that was because of Rorschach. The rest were unconscious or moaning in pain, and there were sirens in the distance, drawing closer. Dan could feel blood dripping down his back, but he smiled all the same at the two of them, all standing together. Laurie and Rorschach were positioned beside each other still.

"I'm Laurie Jupiter," she said and stuck her hand out at him. Rorschach's gaze lingered on her.

"Hurm," he said in reply, before he turned and walked away into the dark.

Dan rolled his eyes. _Dammit, Rorschach_. Much as he respected Rorschach, even cared about him, he knew he could incredibly difficult. "That's Rorschach," he said to Laurie. "It's not you. He's just like that."

Dan wasn't sure what to say next to her. As they stood in the alley, he dressed like a fool and she in a negligee, her breath still coming in deep gasps making her chest heave visibly, he tried to retain his composure. He could hardly stride off into the night like his partner just had, yet he was all out of ideas.

"So, Daniel, is it?" Laurie asked. _Dammit, Rorschach! _"Do you have a last name? Or a phone number?"

"Uh," he began. "Don't you have a boyfriend?"

"And I'm sure you have a girlfriend," she countered. _If only she knew_ … "But I know he won't mind our being friends, as long as we keep it above board. Besides: how else do you meet new people in this line of work?"

She had a point. Dan began patting his owl suit, praying that he wouldn't have a card on him. Why had Rorschach been compelled to say his name? Why was Rorschach Rorschach and he couldn't just be Nite Owl? Tucked in his utility belt, he had one left. _Aw, hell_.

He handed it to her. "Daniel Dreiburg," she read out loud. It had his home address, his phone number. It was kind of a stupid thing to have tucked into his owl suit – what if he ended up dead on the sidewalk someday? – but he'd had them printed to give out to girls. Somehow that had seemed like a good idea when he'd first gotten into this; now it was just somewhat humiliating. "Well, Daniel Dreiburg, I look forward to running into you again."

"Dan'll be fine," he said.

"I look forward to running into you again, Dan." She was beaming that smile at him, and he couldn't help but smile back, and watch, dumb, as she, too, disappeared into the night.

Naturally, Rorschach was at the Owl Nest when Dan got home. His mask didn't have any eyes, yet somehow Rorschach's gaze was penetrating. Neither of them spoke as Rorschach stitched up the small wound in Dan's shoulder and then closed the hole in his owl suit. The blood was barely visible on the dark fabric, so they just let it go. Dan wriggled in the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

"Can we just go?" Dan asked. "Please?"

Once aboard the Owl Ship, Rorschach broke his silence. "Didn't think you were the type, Daniel."

_Must we?_ "What type is that?"

"Her type," he said. "Miss Jupiter's."

"I'm not her type." Why did Dan always fumble the important points? "She's not _my_ type. _I'm_ not the type, Rorschach."

"She's jailbait and she's taken, Daniel." According to Hollis, she'd be twenty this year, but Dan wasn't interested in perpetuating the conversation.

"I'm not interested in Dr Manhattan's girlfriend." That seemed to satisfy Rorschach, and somehow to satisfy Dan, too. She was hot, it was true; hot like fire, and just as dangerous. Messing with a woman like that could cause all sorts of problems, Dan knew from experience. Women like Laurie had powerful men behind them, and seemed to have motives that Dan could never quite parse out. And to want a woman who was already with someone else was ... well, dishonorable. And confusing. But mostly dishonorable.

But those weren't Rorschach's reasons for keeping Dan away from her. Rorschach didn't trust women, Dan was starting to see, just as a general rule. And Rorschach didn't approve of Laurie's outfit - of that Dan was sure. At least he had trusted her enough to fight with her. Maybe the fact that Dan had trusted her first let Rorschach do the same, but Dan could never be entirely certain what all went on inside his partner.

The conversation, though, was at an end, and Dan was glad to just be able to fly Archie over the city and wait for a call on the radio. When Laurie rang him up at home that first time, Rorschach had been there to listen to Dan's end of the conversation. When Dan had announced that he was going out to meet Dr Manhattan, he'd even invited Rorschach along. And when Rorschach predictably refused, Dan wondered in the back of his mind what Rorschach knew that Dan did not.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner at Rafael's. He'd never been there before, but Laurie seemed to know it. She was smiling at him over a wine glass, with those dancing, jewel-green eyes. She was in her mid-twenties now but she still looked like that nineteen-year-old who'd saved him in that alley all those years ago.

Dan smiled back at her, wondering what went on behind those eyes. He must have been looking at her for too long because suddenly Laurie dropped her eyes to the table. When she raised them again her expression was different. She was always sort of guarded, but he could never tell if it was just her way or if she was holding something back from him.

"So, are you seeing anyone, Dan?" The question took him by surprise.

"Uh," he mumbled. "No." Which was weird, wasn't it? Dan realized that he hadn't even been out on a date in ... well, he couldn't recall when he'd had a night away from crime fighting before this.

"How do you feel about that?" she asked. She and Rorschach had that in common, that ability to be laser-precise, Dan thought. But Rorschach would never pry into his personal life like that. Would never even consider it. "Do you like being on your own?"

"I'm not solitary by inclination," Dan said. "I just don't meet people ..."

"You really should, Dan. You should get out there and meet someone. You should go on a date. You never know when you're going to be sitting across the table from someone, and look up, and see the person you want to spend your life with." Laurie drew in a sharp breath. "Oh, God knows what you must think of me, Dan, lecturing you on dating and I've been with the same man since I was sixteen. What the hell do I know?"

He had no answer for that. Most of the time he didn't give himself the chance to ask the questions Laurie was asking; when he did wish for a partner in life, he told himself that he was fighting the good fight and it would be unfair to involve someone in his dangerous life. Plus, he had Rorschach to talk to, such as it was, and he had this time with Laurie ...

"Are you at least getting laid?" she asked. Dan's jaw dropped open upon hearing Laurie Juspeczyk pronounce those words. "Oh, Dan, don't be such a - such a Boy Scout about everything," Laurie said, laughing again. "Come on, Dan. Lighten up. Have some more wine."

He did. He took a long sip before asking her a question of his own.

"Is that what you found, Laurie? The person you want to spend your life with?"

She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I suppose I have. Jon and I ... I guess we were meant to be."

Dan gazed down at the olives in the bottom of his glass at the edge of the table. He downed them, too. "What about marriage? You two going to get married ... or something?"

She thought about that one for a minute, then shook her head. "Marriage messes things up too much. Like a dirty bandage on an old cut. You're afraid to pull it off because it will hurt so much, but you don't want to look at it anymore, either. I just need to look at my mom and dad to see how awful it is."

Her eyes were full of pain as she spoke. From what she had told him of Jon, he probably didn't care one way or the other about marriage. Dan wondered if Dr Manhattan was even really capable of a marriage - and what legal standing he would have to enter one, anyway. The Dan shook his head to clear away those thoughts and focus again on Laurie. "My parents were just the opposite," he offered, though he was fairly sure it wouldn't relieve her pain. "If they hadn't died so soon, they'd probably still be just as much in love." He looked at her across the table, tried to gauge her emotion. "I always thought I'd get married someday."

"Oh, Dan," Laurie said, her voice as gentle as music. "That's so sweet."


	5. Chapter 5

Laurie was waiting for him at a corner table. Dan suspected that she had Jon teleport her around the city, since she was always early, but at the end of every evening, she always called a cab, so Dan liked to imagine that Jon had no idea where she was when she was with Dan. Just as no one knew where he was - not the real him, not Nite Owl.

Was it just him or did her eyes light up when she saw him across the room? She waved at him and he came over to join her. She had already ordered him a cocktail, and it sat expectantly on the table at his place at their table for two. Three olives, extra dirty. "How've you been, Dan?" she asked, eagerly. She always seemed genuinely interested in his response.

"Good as usual," he replied. "How are things?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Jon's working too much, as always. I wish we could get away, take a vacation or something. But knowing Jon he'd always have one part of him behind in the lab."

Dan hoped she meant that figuratively, but he could never tell. Jon seemed capable of anything.

Conversation was easy between them, as it always had been. Dan wasn't really sure how things had evolved this way, he and Laurie. He supposed that she was his closest friend. Really, it should be Rorschach; there was no one else with whom he spent so much time, but Rorschach spoke so little. He was so hard to read, and lately, he was becoming more and more opaque. Fading? Or getting stronger?

Laurie, on the other hand, had matured before his eyes these last dozen or so years, growing from a confused child into a thoughtful, powerful woman worthy of respect in her own right. And as beautiful as the sun. Dan felt a twinge of guilt when he looked across the table at her. It was hard not to feel attracted to her, his friend, but it was really just physical. She belonged to Jon, he reminded himself; she was also a carbon copy of her mother, the first Silk Spectre, the object of his teenage devotion, and that seemed somehow Oedipal and awkward.

As if she were reading his thoughts, Laurie asked, "How's Rorschach? Do you see much of him these days?"

"We're out every night," Dan said. "But I don't know how much of him I see. He's, I don't know, changed somehow." She nodded, as if she understood. She studied his face for a long while in silence. "I guess maybe I've changed, too. I guess we all have - we all do. I don't know."

"Everything that seems so sturdy when we're young just gets ... complicated. Thin," Laurie said, though he wasn't sure if she was talking about the same thing he was. It didn't matter. She seemed about to say something, then changed her mind. "Well, anyway, Dan. What's for dinner?"

Dan looked at the menu. There were oysters Rockefeller, calamari, pasta _frutti del mare_ ... he hadn't even noticed until now that it was a seafood restaurant. He hadn't been here before, so everything looked appealing. Laurie always liked such nice places; he wondered if she got out as rarely as he did, but didn't ask. In fact, he wanted to know as little as possible about her life with Jon.

Eventually, Dan decided on a plank-grilled salmon with mixed vegetables. It was the kind of thing he would never make at home - Rorschach wouldn't touch it, he was sure, and what was the point of cooking for one? He looked at Laurie over the tops of his glasses; blurred, she looked like she did at night, her hair soft and her green eyes the only clearly discernible part of her face. He rarely took off his glasses anymore; not only was his vision crap without them, but he felt so exposed with nothing between himself and the world.

"Madame?" the waiter asked. "What may I get for you?"

Laurie opened her menu again to check the name of the dish. "Plank-grilled salmon. And I'd like the mixed vegetables with it, please. And could we have some wine? Maybe a pinot noir?"

"Sir?"

"Uh," Dan fumbled. _What now?_ He flipped open the menu and picked the first thing that he saw. "Gambi fra diavolo," he read. He knew enough Italian to figure out what that meant, but only after the waiter had already left.

"I didn't think you liked spicy foods, Dan," Laurie said with a grin. "I guess you _have_ changed, huh?" He smiled back at her, sheepishly. When their meals arrived, Dan was grateful for the dinner rolls and water to quell the burning. When he had drained his water glass, he turned to the wine she'd ordered. Eventually, it was just the two of them and an empty bottle. Laurie sighed.

"Listen, Dan. I can't hold off on this anymore." Dan's heart skipped a beat. There was something ... dark in her voice that made him panic for just a moment. "There's new legislation going through. It's not out in the press yet, but you know Jon's never wrong about this stuff. Dan," she paused and Dan forgot to breathe. "They're going to outlaw vigilantism again. We're out of a job."

The Comedian had been talking about that just the other night, but Dan had dismissed it. After all, the Comedian said a lot of things that Dan could neither agree with nor believe. Dan looked down at his place setting, feeling his stomach sinking into the chair, unable to take it in, wishing he weren't tipsy from all that wine. "I think I've heard about that. I ... " He wasn't even sure what to say to that.

"That's not all, Dan. They're moving Jon, and me. We're getting new quarters out of the city so he can work without distractions. I'm going with him, and, well, it might be a long while till we cross paths again. I'm not really sure how it's all going to work out."

Dan couldn't believe his ears. Moving away? Didn't know when they'd see each other again?

"All my life," Laurie was saying, "I've been a tool in someone else's project. First it was my mother's dreams, and now it's the government keeping me as a toy for Jon. Just a canvas for other people's dreams. I hope this move means I can change all that. But not with you, Dan. You've always been a real friend to me, and I will always love you for that."

Suddenly, the answers to all of Dan's questions snapped into place: why he came whenever she called, why he looked forward to their visits without ever knowing when they would be. Why he had maintained this silly relationship with an essentially married woman. Why he could remember every conversation they'd ever had. Why he hadn't _been on a date_ in the ten years he'd known her. How had Dan not noticed Laurie creeping under his skin, into his heart?

He had had this conversation perhaps a dozen times before. He had had women wanting him before - or rather, wanting his money, or wanting his attention to alarm their boyfriends, but none had ever wanted _him_. The women that he wanted always saw him as a friend, a big brother. And this one was no different.

But he'd never loved a woman before. Never been sure that he would always care about her, always worry about her, always wonder how she was when she was far away. He realized that he'd been holding his breath; he breathed a shuddering sigh and prayed that Laurie hadn't noticed.

How was it possible that he had never known how much he loved her until she was going away?_ It might be a long while till we cross paths again_. He had never allowed himself to think of it, to imagine holding her in his arms or hearing her tell him she loved him. And now ... she was moving away. And he was out of a job. Confirmed on both counts. It was the end of the world. Her words echoed in his mind like a pinball machine.

_I will always love you for that._

"I'm sorry to hear that, Laurie, but I'm sure you must be pleased for Jon," he heard himself say.

"Yeah, I'm really proud of what he's doing for the country, and for the world, and I'm looking forward to starting over." Could she tell that mourning was already crashing over him as she spoke? "I'll give you a call once we're all settled, you know?"

_I will always love you_.


	6. Chapter 6

If Dan had known that would be their last dinner together, he would have done so much differently. If he had known, he would have ... what? Professed his undying love for her? Stolen her away from her boyfriend? Suggested a duel at dawn for her hand - against a god?

_Stupid_. He could still sometimes hear Rorschach's voice in his ear, though until his unsettling visit yesterday it had been years since Dan had even seen him. Laurie loved Jon, had given up everything to be at his side. For Dan to mention his feelings for her wouldn't have changed her relationship with Jon - just the one with him. And then he wouldn't even have the memories to keep him company.

He was so tired of so much loss. First Laurie had moved away, then Rorschach had lost touch with reality. The Keene Act had robbed him of so much. At first, he had tried to see it as a gift, as Laurie had: the chance to retire and live quietly, to study his birds and write his articles, to not feel he had to jump at every siren on the street. To be an ordinary, law-abiding citizen. But now he just felt ... retired. Old.

The house, no longer an Owl Nest, felt too big and empty without Rorschach dropping by; his visit yesterday had merely confirmed that fact. It had taken Dan weeks to adjust to buying groceries for one. Though Rorschach had never officially lived there, Dan doubted he ever ate anywhere else. Who had been cooking for him these past eight years? He wished, quite sincerely, to see his old friend again, and for it to be like old times, but Dan had no idea how to contact him. Rorschach had always found _him._

Hollis was a welcome friend, but Dan still felt like he was reveling in days gone by. But what else did he have to revel in? He had no wife, no kids, no real career, unless you counted his correspondence with a few wildlife biology grad students ... and he hadn't been on a date in twenty years. Nothing at all since Laurie had stopped calling him - but those had never really been dates in the first place, he reminded himself by rote. Still, he missed her friendship. Dan glanced in the hall mirror as he passed it. Once, he might have passed as handsome, but at forty-something ... Once, he had kept himself in perfect shape, but without a good reason ... Once, he had felt powerful, commanding, but in a cardigan sweater and not an owl suit ...

So many dead dreams.

Dan nearly dropped the dirty coffee mugs he was carrying two to a hand when the phone rang, shrilly. There was no one left to call him, he reminded himself. The last time the phone rang ... well, he couldn't even remember who was on the other end of the line. Nevertheless, a little jolt of electricity ran through him as that bell went off. Dan scurried into the kitchen and set down the mugs. He even smoothed back the cowlicks in the front of his hair, though why, he couldn't say. He lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" he said.

"Dan?" came the voice on the other end. "Hey, Dan. It's Laurie. Laurie Juspeczyk"


	7. Epilogue

Laurie wrapped his arm around her chest a little tighter, pressing herself a bit more firmly into him. Their bedroom was a bit chilly in February; that window had been such a big selling point in November - the better to bird watch from - but apparently it wasn't well insulated and let in a winter draft.

She'd woken to the hooting of an owl outside that window and now she couldn't get back to sleep, and it wasn't worth waking Dan over. She tried hard not to wake him whenever he did get to sleep; he slept so fitfully, most nights waking in a cold sweat, tears in his eyes. Once he had even said, clear as day, "No!" and she knew what depths his mind was taking him to in his sleep. The hideous memory he was forcing himself to relive, over and over again.

If she knew how to contact Jon, she would be tempted to do so only to beg him to reassemble Rorschach and put Dan's dreams to rest. Dan blamed himself for not stopping Jon, for not stopping Rorschach, for not stopping Adrian. And Dan missed his friend, the way Rorschach used to be, once.

Jon. She didn't miss him, and that surprised her still. At first she had talked about him constantly, but that was just because she didn't know any other lens for viewing the world except through Jon. Now, she realized, she used Dan's name in conversation just as often as she had ever used Jon's - like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend, Laurie mused.

And, in fairness, Dan was like a boy with his first love, too. Jon had not held her tight like this since she was a teenager. She could feel Dan's body against hers, the comforting blend of muscle and fat, of hard and soft. Jon was sheer muscle, his body hard like a board. That was, when he came to bed at all. The last several years of their relationship, Laurie and Jon had made love so rarely; Jon spent most nights awake in his lab.

But Dan held her close, and every night made love to her that left them both trembling, and kissed her often. The sweet gestures of romance, utterly empty to Jon, came easily to Dan. He seemed to enjoy them even more than she did. He was like a boy going off to war, never sure if this would be the last time he would see her face. Laurie, at least, had her mother, but Dan was an only child and both his parents were long gone. He'd lost everyone last October - everyone but Laurie, and he seemed determined to hold on to her. All through the night he stayed in physical contact with her, skin to skin, as if reassuring himself she was still there.

_Dear Dan_, she thought, readjusting her position in the bed. Would she ever adjust to calling him Samuel Hollis after twenty-some years of knowing him as Daniel Dreiburg? Or to calling herself Sandra? Really, her name was easier; she hadn't had much of an identity as Laurie Juspeczyk: maybe Sandra Hollis had a better chance.

Dan obligingly rolled over and she nuzzled her face between his shoulder blades where a familiar scar lay. She wrapped her arms around him, taking care not to scratch his skin with that diamond she never thought she'd wear, and finally, finally, fell asleep.


End file.
